


Nesting

by MrsWhozeewhatsis (OxfordCommaLover)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, I mean seriously these people are savages, Older reader, Reader-Insert, Shower Sex, Smut, Talk of gynecological hormonal issues, excessive consideration of cotton types, purchases made at Bed Bath and Beyond without a coupon, so much cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-11-11 02:17:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OxfordCommaLover/pseuds/MrsWhozeewhatsis
Summary: Reader is feeling hormonal and takes it out on Dean.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t related to any of the 4 million projects I’m supposed to be working on. I bitched to @manawhaat @oriona75 and @kayteonline about what’s been going on with me the past few days, and they seemed to think it would make a good fic, so here it is! Hope ya’ll like it!

You stared at the wall of towels before you, contemplating size, color, thread count, and cotton type. Since when did cotton have types? Cotton was cotton. Who cared if it came from Egypt? Obviously, some part of you did, because those were the bath sheets that ended up in your cart. Yes, bath sheets, not regular bath towels, because you lived with giants even gianter than you. Maybe exchanging bath towels for bath sheets would stop the parade of skin that happened outside your bedroom door every fucking morning. Normally, it didn’t bother you, well, you could breathe through it, but the past couple of days hadn’t been normal. If nothing else proved that, the fact that you were standing in Bed, Bath, & Beyond with a cart full of linens was a giant, flashing neon sign.

The pile of bath sheets shifted as you shoved the cart back into the aisle and you almost sent the cart flying as you jumped to save them. The sheets were packaged in a slippery plastic, balanced on top of blankets and pillows and throw pillows, and the towels just wouldn’t stay on top of them. Every time you shifted one thing, another thing would slip.

A meek-looking sales associate who reminded you of Brad Majors from Rocky Horror for some unknown reason stepped toward you with arms outstretched to help catch your items as they tried to make an escape from your cart.

“Can I help you with your purchase, ma’am? Maybe get you a second cart?”

You growled, yes, actually _growled_ , at the man. “No, thank you, I’m fine,” you said, trying to plaster a polite smile on your face. From the terrified expression on Salesman Brad’s face, you guessed you missed your mark. He turned tail and ran away, leaving you blessedly alone. “Ma’am is nice. Ma’am is polite. They say shit like Ma’am and Sir in the Midwest. It means nothing,” you muttered under your breath as you put your old Tetris skills to work repacking the cart. The pile of linens finally behaved, and you headed back towards the front of the store, trying to ignore ironing boards, neck wraps, foot spas, and curtains. “I don’t need curtains, there are no fucking windows in the bunker. Ignore the curtains. Ignore the curtains. Well, maybe a shower curtain. Or two. And tension rods to hang them on. Stupid bunker made for only men. I guess I should be glad there are even cubicles. It could be one big open space,” you grumbled.

Nobody’s head got bitten off while you checked out, barely, and you spent the hour drive back to the bunker playing your favorite music and singing at the top of your lungs to shake off the irritation that seemed so very prevalent the past couple of days. It almost worked, until you pulled into the bunker’s garage and saw Dean in his little booty shorts washing Baby.

“Seriously???” you griped, glaring at the miles of thigh and arm muscles on display while he soaped up the black beauty. He was even wearing fucking flip flops, and even his goddamn feet were fucking attractive. “Who has sexy feet???” you growled, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath to center yourself.

Damn the doctor. Damn your stupid body. Damn the stupid medicine. Damn it all and hopefully, this goddamn shit would be over soon and you’d be back to normal.

Last week, you’d finally gone to the gynecologist after putting it off for about five months. See, at first, you thought maybe you were pregnant and took three pregnancy tests a week for two months to be sure that you weren’t. Then, you figured it was stress. Hunters have stress. It wouldn’t be the first time you missed a period because of stress. Unfortunately, your favorite form of stress relief was sex, but you were then too freaked out about what wasn’t happening to go out and indulge. Not that you were really feeling it, anyway. Without the usual monthly hormonal peaks and valleys, skipping the bar scene and reading a good book hadn’t been difficult. When you hit your fifth month without any signs of Aunt Flo coming for a visit, you broke down and made an appointment.

Worst case scenario at this point was menopause. It wouldn’t exactly be early, but it wouldn’t be late, either. It would probably turn out to be pre-menopause or peri-menopause or semi-menopause or bi-menopause or whatever other kinds of menopause the doctors had invented since you’d last been there. The doctor had taken all kinds of fluids from you for testing and given you a prescription for a medication that was going to jump-start your body into having a period. The call had come in that you were clean, so you just had to wait for the hormonal tests to come in, now. In the meantime, apparently not having a period put you at risk for one of the million or so girl cancers out there, so you needed to bleed.

You had expected to get cranky and irritable, maybe retain some water or have some cramps, but what happened was very different. Well, you were cranky and irritable, but not because you were retaining water or cramping. No, that wouldn’t come until later. Right now, you were fucking _nesting_.

Nesting. Like a fucking bird.

You’d already rearranged the furniture in the TV room, unpacked boxes you’d had in the closet since you’d moved in, and reorganized the kitchen cabinets. That morning, you’d looked at the piles of mismatched towels in the bathroom linen closet and actually _groaned_. This was after you inexplicably ripped a hole in your fitted sheet with your foot getting out of bed, but before you’d spent an extra ten minutes in the shower letting the hot water beat on your sore neck from sleeping on flat pillows.

After living in this bunker with the boys for over a year, you suddenly hated how institutional it was, mixed with a splash of male apathy and haphazardness. You would get matching towels and sheets and blankets and shower curtains and throw pillows and sleeping pillows (and maybe a body pillow to help fill the empty half of your bed) and then it would feel like home and you would finally be able to be comfortable.

Part of your mind tried to point out that you’d been perfectly comfortable the way the bunker was a week ago, but it was drowned out by the need for fucking pillow shams and bed skirts. And now, you were in the garage, the car filled with Bed, Bath, & Beyond (and one or two maxed out fake credit cards), facing a wet Dean in a single layer of clothing showing off _skin_. You took another deep breath, feeling the calm of the music still pouring out of the car speakers.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. You jumped at the sound, eyes flying to the window where Dean was standing, looking expectant.

“Hey, Y/N! Turn the car off in the garage! You want to kill us both?” he yelled through the closed window and over the music.

Turning the key in the ignition, the car and the music came to a stop, leaving you with only the quiet of your thoughts, which weren’t very quiet. Dean had gone back to washing Baby and was currently bent over the hood, his ass looking way too good for the ass of a man his age. He wasn’t that much younger than you. Why hadn’t anything of his started sagging, yet? _Jackass_.

You climbed out of the car, then pulled out all the bags, loading yourself up and closing the door with your foot. The next hour was spent unpacking all the bags, switching out mismatched and holey linens with fresh, new ones, tossing throw pillows on the sofa in the TV room, and gathering all the old stuff to be given to the local animal shelter. As you were hanging up the shower curtains, Dean walked in, soaking wet, and still in just the one layer. So, you know, basically naked.

“Hey, you bought shower rods and curtains! I could have put them up for you! Why didn’t you ask me?”

Flashes of the last time you’d asked Dean to help you do something like this zipped through your mind, and your mouth moved before your brain could stop it. “Because I knew you’d be a whiny bitch about it, or put it off for forever, so it was just easier to do it myself.”

Dean took a step back, but you kept your eyes on your hands, finishing up with the last hooks.

“Whoa, sweetheart! Where did that come from?”

You rolled your eyes but bit your cheeks, knowing that you were being irrational, and this wasn’t worth dragging Dean into the crazy that was your hormone-addled brain at that moment. “Forget it, Dean. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to get it done, so I did it. No worries.”

Pushing past him, deliberately not looking at any part of him, you headed back to your room to finish up there. Once your room was comfy and inviting, no longer the plain masculine browns and beiges everywhere, you felt guilty for doing all this superfluous stuff while Sam was researching hard on your next case. He’d identified a possible case but hadn’t figured out if it was definitely a monster, yet. You’d promised to help, and then gone shopping, instead. Feeling guilty, you sat down across the table from Sam, pulling a book toward you and settling in.

Well, you meant to. Really. You lasted less than fifteen minutes, though, before you were bouncing your knee, shifting in your seat, and tapping your pencil.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Sam asked, giving you his famous puppy eyes.

“Can we get stuff delivered here? Like new chairs? I would love to have chairs in here that didn’t make my ass fall asleep,” you grumbled. Heaving a sigh, you picked up the book you’d been reading and went to put it away, only to find another book where it belonged. When you went to put that book away, there was another book where that book belonged. Rather than just shove it somewhere close to where it belonged, you started pulling books off the shelves and putting them back in order, grumbling the whole time about everyone being too lazy to just put things back where they belong. Soon, you were moving furniture to get to the highest stacks, then just plain rearranging furniture.

You were shifting one of the wingback chairs for the third time when Dean came in.

“Dude? What the hell?” he said, almost tripping over a pile of books you had yet to put away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam put a hand on Dean’s arm to stop him. “Dean, just let her go. She’s on a roll, so just don’t get in her way, okay?”

Part of you wanted to snap at Sam, but part of you wanted to hug him for understanding when you didn’t really understand. Hunters don’t fucking nest, which was why you were irritated about even being irritated about these things you normally weren’t irritated about. How Sam could understand when you didn’t was beyond you.

Dean really didn’t understand, though, and decided to push the subject. “No, I want to know what the hell is going on? Why is this place a mess? And why are the towels all different? And did you change the blanket on my bed?”

You turned to Dean with a head of steam building between your ears. “This place is a mess because I’m not done, yet. Nothing was where it belonged, and where it belonged didn’t even make sense half the time, so I’m getting everything organized. Don’t worry, Dean, I’m not going to leave it like this,” you replied, your irritation clear in your tone. “And your blanket had a stain on it that I couldn’t get out, so I replaced it, along with your sheets, which were wearing thin. I replaced everything for all three of us, and got some spares in case we ever have guests.” You turned away from Dean, going back to pushing a chair out of your way. “Mary’s stuff is still in good condition, and I wouldn’t mess with another woman’s bedding, anyway, so she’s on her own if she wants a change,” you muttered, going back to putting books away in order.

Sam closed the book he was reading and got up, grabbing a few books before he mumbled something about going to his room and disappeared. Dean, however, still didn’t get the message.

“You still haven’t told me what’s going on, Y/N? Why are you changing everything? It took me half an hour to find the freaking coffee this morning! You can’t just up and move things around without telling the rest of us! We live here, too, you know!”

Standing up, you faced Dean, trying to ignore how he was still wearing those stupid short shorts and just the one shirt, which was stretched across his chest and shoulders obscenely. “I rearranged the kitchen so the coffee would be closer to the coffee maker, so maybe it wouldn’t always be sitting out on the counter, where it keeps getting knocked over and spilled all over the floor!”

Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest, making the muscles in his arms flex and pop. You managed to withhold a whimper at the blatant arm porn happening live in front of you, but just barely.

“Well, maybe I like having the coffee on the counter, so I don’t have to go digging for it every time I need a shot of caffeine!” Dean yelled.

“Fine!” you yelled back before advancing on him. “Then the next time it gets knocked over, _you_ can clean it up off the floor and make an emergency trip to the _goddamn store_ when _you_ haven’t even had _your_ morning coffee because it got knocked over onto the fucking floor before _you_ could even make some!” You punctuated your words with angry pokes into his shoulder while you yelled your obscenities at him.

Dean’s eyes widened with each poke into his shoulder and he took a step or two back, only to have you follow him and crowd into his space again, fury radiating off you. “What the hell is your problem, today, Y/N? Why are you screaming at me about fucking coffee??” Dean was still yelling, but his arms had loosened and fallen to his sides as you continued pushing him back.

“Because it’s either yell at you or fuck your goddamn brains out, and yelling is the safer option!” you screamed, poking him in the shoulder a couple more times before letting loose an angry roar and pushing past him to leave the room. Part of your brain realized what you had just said, but the rest of it was so awash with irrational anger you could barely see straight. Which is why you were almost caught off-balance when Dean grabbed your arm and spun you around to face him again.

“Is that what your problem is, sweetheart?” Dean said, menace in his voice and a dark gleam in his eye as he crowded into your space, making you suddenly feel small and slightly afraid. “You want a piece of me, but you’re afraid to take it how you want it?”

Anger pushed away the sliver of fear as you pushed him away from you, smacking both hands against his chest. “I’m not afraid of shit, Winchester,” you growled, pushing him again so he took another step back. “You are the one who should be afraid, Deano.” Another push, another step back for Dean. “I’m not one of your little bar bimbos, Dean.” Another push and a fire began burning in Dean’s eyes as he took another step back. “I’m a real woman, Dean, who isn’t gonna be impressed with stupid pickup lines or flashy moves.” Another shove. “You’d have to fucking _bring it_ if you wanted to get into my bed, Bucko.”

One last shove and Dean fell back into one of the plush wingback chairs. You crossed your arms and nodded, enjoying how you’d knocked Dean off his balance, then turned to leave. You were two steps from the stairs leading out of the library when Dean’s voice rang out.

“I will if you will, sweetheart.”

Dean’s voice had somehow deepened, a dangerous edge lacing his tone sending a wave of molten heat through your belly to your core. Your feet froze in place while the implications of his words penetrated your brain. He wanted you? Really?

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Dean,” you replied, your back still turned to him so you wouldn’t have to see his face when he changed his mind.

“I never do, Y/N,” he said, that dark edge still lacing his voice and curling around your spine sending tingles throughout your body.

Half a second was all the time you took to decide to do this. It had been months since you’d been with anybody, and your last few somebodies had been unimpressive, at best. Based on the sounds you’d heard through motel room walls, Dean wouldn’t be unimpressive.

You spun around and stalked across the room, climbing into his lap so you were straddling his thighs and slamming your mouth onto his at the same time. Dean’s arms wound around you tightly, pulling you against him roughly while his tongue fought yours for dominance. His hands were rough against your back, rucking up your shirt with every pass and creating waves of heat as he touched your skin. Eventually, you got tired of the fight over your mouth and tangled your fingers in his hair before pulling it roughly to separate his mouth from yours, earning you a wild groan from deep in his chest. His head pulling away from yours enabled you to reach his neck with your lips and teeth. You tugged at the sensitive skin with your teeth, then smoothed it over with your tongue and lips, hanging on as he convulsed beneath you and sucking gently to soothe the sting of your bite.

Dean’s hands grabbed your ass and squeezed so tightly it almost hurt, but right now the almost pain just amplified all the pleasure rocketing through your system. He shifted his hips underneath you and grabbed at you roughly until your core was pressed tight against the rock-hard line of his cock in those godawful shorts. As both of your hips started grinding together, you took his earlobe into your mouth and tugged on it not-so-gently with your teeth.

The sound that ripped out of Dean’s mouth was almost feral as you sucked and pulled on his ear. His hips were bucking up into yours almost as wildly as yours were grinding down into his. As you bit and sucked mark after mark into his neck and shoulder, he did the same to you, his hands absolutely everywhere on your body. No sooner were you arching into a harsh squeeze of your breast than he had a hand down the back of your pants, his fingers digging into the soft flesh he found there. You both rutted together harder and faster, getting high off each other’s grunts and moans.

“Dean...fuck….”

“Shit…Y/N….”

Without warning, your orgasm slammed into you, making you arch your back while Dean latched onto the swell of one breast with his teeth and lips. Your core was pressed so tightly against Dean’s cock that even through two layers of denim you could feel him twitch as he came with a cry. Frantic grinding turned into gentle rolling as you both came down, your breaths mingling as you panted together. Your head dropped to his shoulder as you slumped against him, enjoying the feel of his hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

“Damn, Y/N, where the hell did that come from?”

Nuzzling into his neck, you took a deep breath through your nose to fully take in the heady scent of Dean. “Hormones…nesting…something…shit…. Who cares? That was awesome,” you panted, still trying to get your heart and breathing under control.

Dean shifted underneath you, holding you against him while you latched onto him like a koala as he easily stood up, lifting you like you were nothing. “Well, whatever that was, I’m all for continuing it in the bedroom with less clothing involved.” You opened your eyes to see the hallway of the bunker passing by you as Dean carried you to his bedroom. “Apparently, I have new pillows to break in and a new blanket without a stain to impress the ladies.”

Giving him a gentle slap upside the back of his head and a bite to his shoulder you groaned. “Better not be any other ladies getting impressed by that blanket. I don’t like other birds in my nest.”

Dean’s laugh jostled you in his hold. “Sounds good to me, beautiful.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes the Reader into his bedroom and the hormones cause tears and confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third and final one-shot I promised to write as part of my 2000 followers celebration so long ago that I honestly don’t remember. It’s been months, I think. So many months. Thanks to @manawhaat for telling me this doesn’t suck. If I’m ever bored, I have an idea for a smutty third part, but don’t hold your breath. It would be years. You’d definitely die.

By the time Dean carried you to his room, doubts had already begun zipping through your mind. Sure, he wanted you when you had your clothes on and you rocked his world with angry sex. What’s to say he wouldn’t feel differently after he saw how your boobs totally didn’t do the bra thing without the bra, anymore? Things _jiggled_ , now, and not in good ways.

Dean sat on his bed and laid you out with your head on his new pillows, hovering over you while his lips gently met yours. Thoughts fled your mind while Dean simply kissed you over and over again. It wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t rough, it wasn’t just a prelude to something else; it was just gentle, undemanding, exploratory _kissing_. Another adjective sprung to mind, but you pushed it away before more than the first letter could be explicitly thought. The warmth that spread through your body from Dean’s, though… combined with the sweet way his tongue slid against yours with no set goal in mind other than to just feel… you felt tears begin to well up in your eyes as you clung to Dean, both hands spread across his back.

Dean stopped kissing you when he tasted the salt on your skin.

“Y/N?” He backed away, taking in the tears on your cheeks while he brushed a lock of hair from your face. “Did I do something wrong? Did you not want this?” His hands left your body fast as lightning as he put them up in surrender.

You shook your head and sniffled, grasping at his shirt so he wouldn’t back even further away, trying to swallow down all the emotions that were choking you. “It’s not that, Dean! I _did_ want this. I—I _do_ want this! This isn’t bad crying, it’s just… I’ve just got so much going on inside of me right now that I can’t seem to… I don’t know why I’m crying, Dean, but it’s not your fault, I swear!” You sat up and launched yourself back into his arms, burying your face in his shoulder.

Dean wrapped his arms around you, and as he gently rubbed your back, a thousand knots in your body slowly loosened, leaving you nearly boneless. Your tears dried up and all you could focus on was the feeling of being in the safest place on earth and the rhythm of your breaths as you took in the scent of Dean.

“Do you want to talk about what’s got you acting like a crazy person?” Dean asked, tempering his question with a tender kiss on your head.

You pulled in a deep breath of just _Dean_ , letting it give you strength. “I, uh,” you stammered, not sure exactly where to start. Sitting back, you glanced at Dean’s face, which was screwed up in worry. “It’s nothing bad, really. It’s just, I’m not pregnant,” you rushed to reassure him, “but I haven’t had, you know, shark week in almost six months, so I went to the doctor.” Dean nodded, obviously trying not to jump to conclusions. “They took more blood than a starving vampire for tests, gave me a complete exam, and the doctor put me on a medicine to try and kickstart something. She doesn’t think it’s anything serious, just probably early menopause or something, but the medicine is making me twelve kinds of crazy, right now.” You tried to laugh but it got a bit choked off from the remains of the tears still lodged in your throat. “Today is Day 3 of ten days with these pills, and I’m climbing the walls, here!”

Dean looked so confused, his eyes wide and uncomprehending.

“One minute, I want to bake a pie and organize closets and I’m obsessed with thread counts, and the next I want to rip you and Sam apart for leaving the toilet seat up and the coffee on the counter, but before I can take a breath, you’re prancing around in those short shorts wearing just the one layer and all I can think about is riding you into next week!” Dean’s eyes got impossibly wider and he cleared his throat while his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink and his mouth turned up in a cocky smirk. “And then, you brought me in here and just kissed me like I’m something _special_ , like I’m something _precious_ , and I just couldn’t… I—” Tears started welling up in your eyes again, so you shook your head to clear it of the excess emotion. “I’m just feeling about half a dozen more feelings than I’m used to all at one time, and that’s when I’m _not_ thinking about the idea that I might be in menopause and what that means.”

Oh, menopause. You’d been looking forward to it since you were twelve years old. The end to the cramping, the bleeding, the bloating, the hormonal insanity, the laundry, the binge-eating, the always trying to find new places to hide pads and tampons, the many different forms of birth control (each one worse than the last in terms of side effects), the fear of getting abducted and held for days during shark week without supplies, not to mention the fear of being half a second too slow during a hunt because you were exhausted from bleeding and felt like someone was stabbing a hot poker into your vagina. You’d cheered on every grey hair and wrinkle because it meant you were that much closer to _fucking FREEDOM_.

And now that it might be here, now that you were facing the prospect of hot flashes and night sweats, but nearing the end of all that irritation and discomfort, all you could think about was what you couldn’t have. What if you did meet someone and they decided they didn’t want you because you were too old? You’d never wanted kids, but now that the prospect was almost definitely off the table, were you sure? And now, with Dean sitting in front of you, looking like the possibility of _so many things_ , it felt like a door was closing behind you and all you could see in front of you was walkers and adult diapers.

Dean took your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I can’t even begin to imagine everything that’s going on in that gorgeous brain of yours, right now.” His thumbs wiped across your cheeks, clearing away tears you hadn’t realized were falling again. “All I can do is tell you that I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here. You want to kick my ass? We’ll spar in the training room. You want to ride me into next week?” One eyebrow popped up and he gave you a cocky smirk. “You just say the word, gorgeous,” he said with a wink that made you smile. “You want to bake pies?” His smile suddenly outshone the sun. “Baby, you know, I can eat pies,” he said with a chuckle that made laughter bubble up from your chest. “You want to organize closets and buy sheets? I’ll get you new cards to shop with.” Dean took a breath and sighed, but his gaze never wavered from your eyes. “And if you want to be kissed like you’re something precious, that’s no problem, either.” He pulled you towards him and left a chaste kiss on your lips before wrapping you up in his embrace again, holding you close to his chest. “Because you _are_ something precious, and you deserve to be kissed that way if that’s what you want.”

Your brain halted, then reversed, and replayed the last five seconds over again. Dean couldn’t possibly mean what he was implying, could he? You closed your eyes, unable to hear much of anything over the beating of your heart, and tried to sound nonchalant. “You don’t have to say that if you don’t really mean it, Dean. I’m not your usual flavor and I know it. I’m older than you, I’ve got grey hair and wrinkles, things _sag_ , and… and there’s a lot I can’t give you, it turns out.” Although you were giving him an out, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping he wouldn’t take it.

“I do mean it.” His chest shifted next to you as he took in a nervous breath. “Every word.”

Disbelief and wonder coursed through you while Dean’s hands continued rubbing your back in a soothing rhythm, the motion only disturbed by a slight tremor.

“I’m no spring chicken, either, you know,” Dean continued. “I mean, I’m older than I ever thought I’d get, and when I look at you, I just see the most impressive, most badass, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” Dean sighed, the whoosh of the air going through his chest sounding louder than before as his heartbeat became a drum in your ear. “You take no shit, which is why I _never_ thought you’d _ever_ have _anything_ to do with _me_.”

Keeping your face buried in his chest, listening to the rapid beat beneath your ear, you replied, “You’re something pretty special to me, too, Dean.”

You felt more than heard Dean’s sigh of relief when he loosened his hold on you so he could cup your face and kiss you again. There was kiss after kiss after kiss, with only enough space between them for a breath or a happy noise. When he finally slowed down, there were words interspersed between his chaste kisses.

“I’m so—” _kiss_ , “happy—” _kiss_ , “to hear you—” _kiss_ , “say that.”

Kissing became nearly impossible as you both started smiling too widely to pucker up, anymore. You gave up on proper kissing and just sat there for a minute or so, your foreheads pressed together as you both smiled like giddy schoolkids. Eventually, Dean shifted a little underneath you and then gave out a disgusted groan.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I really need to clean up from what happened in the library. It’s getting grossly uncomfortable.” He helped you slide off his lap and stood up, shifting in his shorts with a grimace. “Yup. Need a shower.”

You stood up and wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a nervous smile. “I should clean up after my attack on the library, too. Meet you back here in half an hour?”

Dean gave you a cocky smile while he ran his hands up and down your sides, feeling your curves. “Instead of showering next to each other, with a wall and a couple of shower curtains between us, how about we shower together and save water?” His eyebrows positively _waggled_ with lascivious intent.

Laughter burst from your mouth so loudly it surprised you, your hand flying to your mouth to contain it. “Save water, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said with a sexy smile. “We can see how well those new shower curtains keep Sammy from hearing what we’re up to.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve worked out the hormonal/nervous/angry energy, and talked through the hormonal/nervous/emotional issues, and now it’s time to get clean. And a little dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third, and possibly final, part of Nesting! Special thanks to @littlegreenplasticsoldier for the fantastic beta job. She encourages me to be better when I get lazy and puts up with my commas. Honorable mention to @eyes-of-a-disney-princess who has been patiently waiting for this for a supremely long time.

Dean grabbed what looked like a handful of condoms from his nightstand, then led you down the hallway, your hand firmly in his, your mind suddenly racing.

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. There’s gonna be nudity, in that huge, open locker room-style bathroom, with those bright lights everywhere. I’ll be lucky if I don’t blind him._

Dean opened the door to the bathroom, ushered you inside, then locked it behind you using the hook-and-eye latch he’d installed for you when you all first moved in. The room was large and open, shower cubicles and one bathroom stall on one wall, sinks on the opposite wall, urinals on one short wall, full-length mirrors on the other, and a long bench running down the middle. Each cubicle had a dressing area with a bench and hooks, with the shower beyond. Before today and your sudden need for matching frilly everything, there weren’t any curtains anywhere, which was why Dean had installed the latch on the door. It kept the brothers from accidentally barging in the room when you were in there. Now, there were curtains hung between the showers and dressing areas, and more curtains protecting the dressing areas from the sinks. The latch technically wasn't needed, anymore, unless, of course, you wanted to keep someone out while you had sex.

You glanced dubiously at all of the bright lights overhead and suddenly wondered if Dean would think it was odd if you had sexy shower times in separate cubicles.

_Standing up naked is SO MUCH DIFFERENT than laying down naked. Things sag. Things HANG. There’re unattractive shadows. When you lay down naked, everything slides backwards, and you look like you’ve had a face lift. Yeah, your boobs kind of spread out and fall to the side, but that’s expected if they’re real. But when you’re standing… FUCK. Bad bad bad!! Abort! Abort! Abort!!_

You took a deep breath to start your argument as Dean deposited the condoms in your shower caddy, but then he was back, cutting off all your thoughts with a scorching kiss. Tongue and lips and hands and muscles and _fuck, how is he getting hard again, already???_ Your heart started jackhammering from fear and arousal and there was a passing thought of you dying, right there and then, and what would the coroner’s report say? “Died of fright. Afraid to be seen naked in a men’s locker room.” God, would they arrest Dean for it?

_No, the boys would give you a hunter’s funeral and there’d be no coroner’s report, Stupid._

Gah, now he was pulling off your shirt and kissing down your neck, his hands squeezing your hips as he pulled you against him, and you were powerless to argue. Your jeans were the next to go after you kicked off your house shoes. You would have tried to cover yourself, but Dean was keeping you plenty covered with his body. He tossed your clothes at the bench and kicked your shoes out of the way while somehow managing to not lift his lips from your skin. He paused at a spot on your shoulder, licking over it with a satisfied hum.

“I like seeing my marks on you,” he growled before sucking at it again and making it sting, the feeling shooting through your body and making you melt.

Your only audible response was an unpreventable moan as you dug your fingers into his back, almost pushing your nails through his shirt. The back of your mind wasn’t completely subdued by his prowess, though.

_You’re down to bra and panties and he’s going to SEE YOU soon if you don’t stop this and go back to a nice, quiet, dimly-lit bedroom, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!_

His hands were at the clasp on your bra when he said, “Can’t wait to see all of you, babe. So fucking hot all the time….”

The straps slackened once the last hook was released, and you clamped your arms to your side in panic, keeping the cups firmly in place. Dean tried to slide the straps down your arms, but your whole body stiffened. You pulled your arms from around his middle and wrapped them around your own and, as he began to realize that something was wrong, he pulled his hands from you.

Wanting to avoid his eyes, you looked down, only to be met with the obvious, barely-contained bulge in those ridiculous shorts.

_Not helping!!!!_

“Y/N? Do you _not_ want to do this?” Dean cupped your face with both hands, gently forcing you to look into his eyes. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I know you have a lot going on right now, so if this is too much—”

“No! Dean, no, that’s not it,” you argued, shaking your head, even though he was making a good point. “I just, well, haven’t ever done the whole shower sex thing, before, and there’s just so much LIGHT in here, and I just….” Your voice trailed off as Dean started to laugh.

It was one of the laughs you usually loved to see. His eyes danced with light and he just looked so _free_ of every burden he’d ever carried. Only now, it was aimed at you.

“Oh, princess, you need to stop worrying. I want to see every inch of you.” His hands rubbed up and down your arms while his eyes roamed your front, pausing at your boobs, which were now being held together by your crossed arms and the cups of your bra. “You’re fucking gorgeous, and I guarantee that I’m gonna love every part of you.”

Slowly and carefully, he tugged at your arms until you uncrossed them, then he kissed you to distract you from him sliding the bra down and tossing it away. His tongue continued to ravage your mouth while his hands slid down your body until one was pulling your waist tightly against him and the other cupped your breast. He felt the weight of it, measuring it against his hand, then kneading it until you gasped at the zings of pleasure he was sending to your core. He finished by working the nipple until you arched against him and cried out into his mouth, your legs going weak with desire.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured as his hands roughly gripped you, almost to the point of pain.

You moved against him, realizing he was still fully clothed, and groaned in frustration. “No fair. I’m almost naked and you’re not,” you growled in his ear. “Get naked, _now_.”

Dean nipped at your neck and chuckled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a little bite to your shoulder. While he backed away to strip down, you reached into the cubicle that was ‘yours’ and turned on the water, keeping an eye on him as he revealed endless vistas of freckled skin, mottled with scars and a couple of bruises from your last hunt. As the shorts dropped, you were surprised to see Dean was commando. _I guess those shorts were too short to cover undershorts._ He was turned away from you, and you enjoyed the view of his back while he grabbed his shirt and wiped himself off before turning back to you.

There was a second or two when you thought you might actually suffocate. Your breath caught in your throat and you forgot how to let it out or take in another one. He turned to you, half-hard cock in his hand, all broad shoulders and bow legs with that soft-but-firm tummy in between. The muscles in his arm bunched as he gave his cock a gentle stroke and you watched, completely mesmerized, arousal building rapidly between your thighs. _This has got to be a dream, but it’s definitely the best dream EVER._

“Like what you see, gorgeous?” he asked, that cocky grin splitting his face as he began to look you up and down, too. Reflexively, you blushed all the way down to your chest and moved to cover yourself, but he stepped up to you and stopped you. “Never do that. I always want to see you. All of you.” He held you at arm’s length for a moment, just looking at you, standing there in your panties, his cock filling the longer he stared. When he was done, he crashed his lips to yours again for a short, but hot, kiss. “Need those panties off, baby. Gotta feel how wet you are for me.”

Your panties were down your legs and across the room in an instant, then he shuffled you into the shower with him. He kept the spray at his back, shielding you from it, then pressed you up against the cold tile, once again attacking your lips. His hands, however, started moving. One found your previously neglected breast and the other slid between your thighs, stroking your center and teasing you relentlessly until he felt the arousal that had been pooling there since the library. His assault was so complete, lighting up nerve centers throughout your body like he was fucken Thomas Edison, you had to tear your mouth away from his to gasp in air.

Between his cock rutting slightly against your hip, both of his hands, and his talented mouth, another orgasm was fast approaching. Denied your mouth, he latched onto your neck, instead, making mark after mark as his fingers pushed inside you and began pumping, soon finding the best angle to make you fall apart. In and out, he pushed and pulled, crooking his fingers and rubbing expertly, pressing against your clit while his other hand worked your breast. It didn’t take long for you come so hard you thunked your head against the tile wall. You just tried to keep breathing so you wouldn’t make a noise that would echo down the hallway.

Dean kept kissing you as your breathing and heart rate stabilized. When you were once again able to think straight and stand without melting into the floor, he gave you a smile, then backed up underneath the water. He ran his hands through his hair and put on a little show for you, knowing you were watching each muscle flex and stretch. _I’m literally surrounded by water right now, why is my mouth so dry??_ When he was completely wet, and you had memorized every peak and valley of his upper body, he turned you both around, so you could do the same. His eyes devoured your every curve as you tried to give him a show, too. Courage seeped into your body as you lifted your arms, and Dean’s eyes never stopped moving over you, taking you in.

It all continued that way while you washed the dirt and sweat from your bodies. It was slow and gentle, hands pushing soapy cloths over dips and planes, then circling around curves and sliding through creases. You shared sloppy kisses while hands directed the flow of water here or there, worked shampoo into hair, or just teased for the sake of teasing. When you were both clean and rinsed off, he licked his way down your front, relishing the slippery give of your skin under his hands. He landed on his knees, gazing at the apex of your thighs downright reverently. His hands massaged your thighs before gently lifting one of your legs and draping it over his shoulder, opening you up to him.

Heat flooded your face and you closed your eyes, letting your head fall back, not wanting to see his expression in case you found a trace of disgust. Some of your previous partners had faced the parts of you that were below your belt like an innocent man on trial for murder. They acted like using their mouth to turn you on was just something they had to get through, and they’d rather do anything else, and sometimes it felt like it, too. You’d learned a long time ago that pretending they wanted to be down there made it easier for you to pretend you wanted them down there.

Dean’s hands clutched at your ass, pulling you closer to his mouth, and then you felt the first press of his mouth against your mound. His tongue was warm and wet against your folds as he began exploring.

And then he moaned.

For a second, you thought you might come right then. No man had ever _moaned_ while going down on you, and the feel of the vibrations amongst all those nerve endings was better than the best toy you’d ever bought. Not to mention the _sound_ of it. The last time you’d heard anything close was at the diner where you had lunch during your last hunt. The whole meal had brought out those sounds from Dean, making Sam give his most epic bitch face while Dean just chewed with his eyes closed and smiled a supremely satisfied smile.

“You taste so good,” Dean moaned… _again_ … making your breath catch in a gasp from the feeling both outside and in. _He’s enjoying this? He likes this?_ The knowledge filled your chest with warmth and ramped up every flick, lick, nibble and suck he used to attack you. You again tried to contain your voice, imagining your moans echoing as they bounced down the hallway to poor Sam’s ears, but Dean put a stop to that.

“I want to hear you this time. Don’t hold back, baby. I want to hear what you like,” he said before once again thrusting his tongue inside of you.

Dean got his wish. Knowing that he loved this as much as you did, you let loose, hearing the echo of your moans and cries as he worked you towards yet another orgasm. You were hanging onto his hair for dear life, practically riding his face as you tried to not fall over or have your leg give out from underneath you. When you were flying high, he stopped, sliding up your body, bringing your leg up with him so it was hooked over his elbow as he slotted his cock against your core. He ground his hips against yours, letting the head of his cock bump into your clit while he reached for a condom and opened the wrapper. He pulled away just long enough to roll it on before going back to sliding against you and teasing your clit.

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, watching you come back to earth until you looked into his eyes. “I want you, all of you. And not just for today, not just for this. You with me?”

Between panting breaths from the heat blazing through your veins, you managed to nod and answer, “Yeah, Dean,” with tears threatening to well up in your eyes. You’d never been so overwhelmed with so many different emotions as you were right then. Your relationship with Dean was changing significantly, right at that moment, and the world seemed to freeze to make that moment last. His eyes were glued to yours and he breathed in with a little smile before claiming your lips again. He groaned into your mouth as he pushed into you, filling you up until you worried you wouldn’t have room to breathe.

Dean waited for you to adjust, making sure your leg was secure over his arm and there was no chance of slipping until you growled in frustration.

“Dean, _please_ ….”

Begging must have worked, because he whined in reply before he started moving. At first, he was slow and gentle, gliding in and out of you so smoothly it was just one continuous motion. He took his time kissing you, feeling you, and letting you feel him. Your fingers clutched the back of his head and neck as you worked to stay upright and support yourself, so he wouldn’t have to. It was the kind of sex that you could do all day, enjoying every minute and ending with a quiet burst of pleasure.

Dean, however, wanted to hear you, and the comforting warmth his slow pace was creating didn’t make you scream. His thrusts sped up, and he got his wish as the stream of noises and curses flowing from your mouth increased in volume and desperation.

After a few minutes, though, you had to call a halt. “Dean, please—oh, God—I need, _fuck_ , I can’t stay like this.”

Dean stopped his thrusting and pulled out, stabilizing you as he dropped your leg.

“God, I hate being old,” you mumbled into his chest. “Stupid muscle cramps.”

Dean didn’t seem to be bothered by the need to change, though. He plastered his body against yours, pulling your head back up so he could go back to kissing you. When he finally let go of your lips, he said, “Turn around. I’m not stopping there, no way. Want you so bad.”

Next, you were facing the wall, your hands scrabbling at the tiles while Dean’s hands were on your hips, and he was thrusting into you again. This time, though, the angle was so very different, his pace faster, the drag of him inside of you more intense, and his hands gripped you almost painfully. Everything seemed bigger, fuller, louder, faster, harder, and another orgasm was building up. You’d never had a partner make you come more than once, and here Dean was, bringing on your third in about an hour.

Sparks zipped up your spine and back down again, adding to the fire building in your belly as the feeling intensified. “Come on, Y/N,” Dean grunted. “I know you’re almost there. Make me feel it.”

You dropped one hand from the wall down to your clit and began to rub, giving yourself the little extra push you needed for your orgasm to crash down on you. The bubble burst, and you clamped down on Dean’s cock inside of you. The feel of him so hard, the friction of his thrusts, and the sound of his strangled cry as he came, all prolonged your pleasure. You stayed at the peak, your body locked in place by the seemingly endless waves until Dean slowed his pace, bringing you down with him.

Exhaustion met a happy, tingly, drunk feeling as it flowed through your body, and you leaned hard against the wall while Dean pulled out, so you wouldn’t just slither down into a heap on the floor. His arms were around you after just a moment, supporting you and pulling you against his warmth. You stayed in your haze while Dean grabbed a towel and dried you off, wrapping you securely in it and then setting you down on the bench. With your eyelids at half mast, a blurry Dean collected all the discarded clothing and tossed it in the communal hamper, saving your delicates since he knew you liked to wash them separately. He tied a towel around his waist, gathered up shoes and such, and then helped you up, wrapping his other arm around you.

The two of you almost barreled right into Sam as you headed towards Dean’s room, Dean directing you like you were drunk while holding your bra and panties. Sam made a kind of squeaking noise you’d never heard from him before, and you giggled as Dean led you to his bed. Sam and Dean had a quiet conversation in the hall, but you only heard a couple of words here or there. Before you could consider trying to help Dean explain your situation, he was in the room with you, getting you out of your towel and into his bed. Soon, you were snuggled up against him, enjoying the warmth of him wrapped around you after the coldness of the bathroom.

“Take a nap, beautiful, and then maybe I can have more of you for dinner,” he whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

Too tired to even give him a playful smack, you just giggled and tried to hide your blush. Dean, again, refused to let you hide, though, and he tipped your chin up so you could look each other in the eyes. With a chaste kiss, he sent you off to sleep, nestled in his arms.


End file.
